Three Suns, Two Moons, One Broken Bond
by Sidekicks-anonymous
Summary: Adam's secret life has always strained the relationship between him and King Randor. One night, a heated argument threatens to break them apart for good. But when Skeletor's latest plot sends Adam to a distant planet, both father and son are reminded of what matters most. Can they defeat Skeletor and mend their relationship before it's too late?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: this story is based on the 2002 incarnation of "He-Man." In this incarnation, Adam is 16 years old, as is Teela. That's the only major difference you need to know. Enjoy!**

* * *

"Adam!"

Teela's voice echoed through the stable. There was no other sound, apart from the soft whinnying of the horses.

"Adam, come on! Your father wants to see you!" No response came.

_Hmm,_ Teela thought, flipping her long red hair out of her face, _Maybe he's not in here after all. _Then she heard a sound—an almost imperceptible sound coming from the back of the stable. She strode carefully across the dirt floor, stopping in front of a large pile of hay. She listened again.

Yes, the sound was coming from the pile. Teela peered behind the hay and grinned at what she saw: a young man, with hay stuck in his blond hair, snoring peacefully.

"I thought so," Teela muttered, detaching a short stick from her belt. With the press of a button, the stick extended into a 6-foot staff used for combat. Or in this case, for waking up royalty.

"Ow!" Adam snorted as the staff jabbed his side."Wha—who—?"

"Come on, Sleeping Beauty, time to get up."

"Was the poking really necessary?" Adam grumbled as he got to feet.

"Did it hurt?"

"Not really..."

"Then yes, it was necessary," Teela teased. She knew from Adam's poorly-concealed grin that the prince wasn't really annoyed. "The king is wondering where you are. He wants to be sure you'll be ready for the banquet."

Adam's grin disappeared. "The banquet?"

"Yes, _the_ banquet. The one that's starting in an hour? King Randor's worried that you forgot about it."

"How could I forget about it? It's all he's talked about for the past week!" Adam sighed. "He's so worried about making a good impression. If I have to hear one more lesson about royal etiquette, I'm gonna scream!"

Teela patted his shoulder sympathetically. "I'll go tell him that you'll be ready in time. Just don't be late, okay?"

"I won't," Adam assured her as she left. He looked back at the hay pile and sighed. "I guess we'd better go get ready, huh, Cringer?"

A soft "mew" was all he got in reply. The pile of hay shook as Adam's pet rose out of it. Anyone who'd heard it meow would have thought the animal was a mere house-cat. But the hay fell away to reveal a fierce-looking green tiger. The ferocity was only skin-deep, though: Cringer was as docile as a kitten and scared of his own shadow. Despite that, he was Adam's best and most loyal friend.

"I wish Father wouldn't get so worried," Adam muttered to Cringer, scratching the tiger behind the ears. "I mean, I know he thinks I'm irresponsible, but does he really think I'd skip out on him tonight? I know how important this banquet is to him."

Cringer nodded sympathetically. He padded after Adam as the prince left the stables. Adam thought with chagrin about the many instructions he'd been given for tonight. _Be polite; don't forget the royal etiquette; comb your hair and for goodness sake, wear something nice! You're the future king of Eternia, you must look the part. _

_It's like Father doesn't trust me to do anything right, _Adam thought with a sigh, _I don't see what the big deal is anyway. Appearances don't prove anything; Cringer is proof enough of that_. Still, he planned to follow his father's advice down to the last detail. He was going to be a proper prince for once.

That was the plan. But it is said that even the best plans are bound to go awry. Adam was soon to discover the truth of this statement.

* * *

Adam looked at himself in the mirror. A heavy jeweled medallion hung around his neck. In place of his usual garb, he wore a dark green vest richly trimmed with embroidery. The pants were a matching color, and even the black boots had green trim. Adam had wondered why his father chose these colors. _The green hides the tiger fur, _was Randor's answer. Adam still wasn't sure if he was joking. He smoothed his hair down, checking one last time for any pieces of hay that might be stuck in it. He went over a checklist in his head. _Nice clothes, check; clean face, check; neatly combed hair, check_. As far as Adam could tell he was perfectly presentable, even by his father's standards.

"What do you think, Cringer?"

The tiger was dozing on Adam's bed. He cracked open an eye and meowed to show his approval.

"Good to hear. I wish you could come, buddy." Adam rubbed the tiger's ears affectionately. "I'll try to sneak some meat out for you. If I don't fall asleep from boredom."

_Adam!_

Adam looked up sharply. He'd heard a voice call his name. A woman's voice. He knew that voice, and he knew what it meant.

"Sorceress? What's wrong?"

_A city in Tyra is being attacked—it's Skeletor's forces._ The woman sounded as though she was standing next to him, but Adam knew the voice was in his own head. The Sorceress of Castle Grayskull usually contacted him telepathically when his help was needed. Or rather, when He-Man's help was needed.

Adam drew his sword. Cringer cowered at the sight of it.

"Sorry, Cringer. We've got work to do." Adam laughed and held the sword aloft. "By the power of Grayskull!"

The sword crackled with energy as its magic was summoned. A brilliant white flash filled the room. Adam felt the power of Castle Grayskull surge through his body. Despite the seriousness of the situation, he couldn't help grinning

_Excellent,_ he thought with anticipation, _Some fun before the banquet._

* * *

Outside, one of the royal guards stood attentively. He scanned the palace grounds carefully for signs of danger. Behind him, he suddenly heard the pounding of paws on the courtyard stones. He spun around.

"Who goes there-" the guard gasped as a huge green beast stopped beside him. It was a tiger, a massive tiger with red armor and saber teeth. Riding the beast was a tall man who seemed to be all muscle. Even if the guard hadn't recognized him, the man's air of authority was enough to command respect.

"He-Man!" The guard gasped, and quickly saluted. The man nodded in reply and bounded away. The guard stared after him.

_That was He-Man!_ The guard thought in shock. _The greatest hero in Eternia! What's he doing here? And more importantly, where is he going? _

He-Man rode away from the palace, unaware of the confusion he'd caused the guard. According to the Sorceress, the trouble was at a city twenty miles north. He-Man had been there before; it was an industrial town, known for producing high-quality mechanics. The palace bought most of its technological components there. Still, it didn't seem like something Skeletor would target.

_On the other hand,_ He-Man reminded himself, _Skeletor's getting more creative all the time. If he's planning something, it's bound to spell bad news for the rest of Eternia. Whatever it is, I'll put a stop to it. _

He-Man paused and glanced back at the palace._ I just hope it doesn't take too long, _he thought.

* * *

An hour later, the banquet was in full swing at the Palace. The greatest authorities in Eternia wandered through the Throne Room, mingling in the stiff, formal way that authorities do. The music was beautiful, the food was delicious, and everyone was enjoying themselves.

Well, almost everyone. One person was becoming more and more frustrated as the minutes crept by. And that person was sitting on a throne.

"He's still not here," King Randor muttered as he scanned the room. On the throne next to him, his wife tried to hide her own uneasiness.

"Calm down, Randor," Queen Marlena whispered. "I'm sure he's on his way. Look, there's Teela now, I'll bet she's found him."

Randor stood up expectantly as Teela ran up to his throne. But the look on her face betrayed the news she brought.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness," Teela whispered to the king, "I've searched the whole palace and I can't find Adam anywhere."

Randor sighed. "Did you check the stables?"

Teela nodded. She looking irritated, though she tried to conceal it. "I don't know why he's so late—he swore he'd be here."

"That's all right. Thank you, Teela." Randor sighed. He scanned the room again. His son was nowhere to be seen among the guests. This was exactly what the king had been afraid of. Adam had an unfortunate habit of disappearing whenever something was expected of him. And now, despite the many reminders Randor had given him, he was absent from the banquet. Randor had half-expected this all week, but still—he'd hoped that for once, his son would follow through with his commitments.

_Just once, Adam,_ Randor thought with disappointment. _Is it really so terrible to spend an evening by your father's side? Is that really so much to ask?_

Randor let out a deep sigh. He leaned back in his throne and tried to hide the frustration building inside him.

* * *

He-Man slammed into the ground, leaving a crater in the rock beneath him. Through the haze of pain, he could see a gryphon above him flying away—Beastman and the others making their escape. He groaned. This battle was not going the way he'd wanted. Not only were the bad guys escaping, but the giant serpent that Beastman had summoned was proving stronger than anticipated. It towered over him, readying for the final strike.

Just as the serpent lunged, He-Man rolled out of the way. The monster's head slammed into the ground next to him, sending up a shower of dust and rock shards. He-Man snatched up his sword as the serpent wheeled to face him.

"Battlecat!" He-Man called. In response, the green tiger let out a roar and pounced on the serpent's face. The monster writhed back and forth to shake the cat off, but Battlecat held fast. While the tiger distracted it, He-Man grabbed the serpent's tail.

"Bon voyage, beastie," he grunted, and flung the serpent with all his might. It shrieked as it hurtled through the air into the depths of the forest. He-Man heard as satisfying _crash_ as it landed among the trees.

"Well," He-Man remarked, panting for breath, "He won't be bothering us for a while." He examined the battle site grimly. Skeletor's cronies had damaged one building, but luckily the fight hadn't done too much harm. One of the villagers ran up, her face smudged with dust.

"Well done, He-Man," she said gratefully. "I shudder to think what damage those hooligans would have caused if not for you."

"Thank you, ma'am. Do you know what they were after?"

The woman shook her head. "I just saw them flying off with some metal thinga-majig. Although," she paused thoughtfully, "there's a rumor that the factory's been working on some special new machine—that might have something to do with it."

He-Man considered this. A new machine of some sort—that did sound like a good clue. This called for further investigation. He needed to get back to the palace and talk to Man-at-Arms; he'd know about any new technology in the works. He-man bid the woman good-bye and raced away.

"What's Skeletor up to?" He-Man murmured as Battlecat bounded back toward the palace. "If I knew what they'd stolen, that would be something; but a vague rumor about a new machine isn't very helpful. Still, better than nothing, I guess." Battlecat said nothing, of course, but He-Man didn't really expect a reply. He pondered the situation all the way home. Then as the palace appeared on the horizon, something hit him like a ton of bricks.

The banquet.

He-Man was horrified. The battle with Skeletor had completely pushed the banquet out of his mind! It was nearly sunset when he'd left. By now, the sky had darkened and the moon shone down from the horizon. How long had he been gone? How long ago did the banquet start? It didn't matter either way; the point was that now he was _late_. Incredibly, undeniably late.

"Faster, Battlecat!" he cried. The tiger nodded and doubled his speed, but it was still not fast enough for He-Man. With every passing second now, his anxiety grew. How could he have been so stupid? Granted, he'd been battling evil villains, but he couldn't tell his father that, now could he?

_What am I going to tell him?_ He-Man thought as the tiger halted just outside the palace gates. He-Man leaped off.

"Let the power return!" he whispered, grabbing the hilt of his sword. There was a flash of light, and suddenly Prince Adam stood where He-Man had been. He raced through the palace gates and across the courtyard, dodging guards and servants. As he entered the hallway, he nearly crashed into Teela.

"Adam! Where have you-"

"Sorry, can't talk now!" Adam called over his shoulder apologetically. Teela yelled something, but Adam didn't hear it. After what seemed like an eternity, he arrived at the doors of the throne room. He paused to catch his breath. Part of him dreaded entering the room. Randor would be furious at his tardiness.

_But better late than never, right?_ Adam thought hopefully. He straightened up, brushed off the embroidered vest, flattened his hair again. The doors to the throne room seemed like the jaws of a terrifying monster. Adam touched the handle; took a deep breath, and gingerly cracked open the door.

Silence met him. Adam pushed the door further and entered the room. The debris of a celebration littered the floor. A table held numerous platters for food but, except for crumbs, they were all empty. So was the room—absolutely empty.

Empty, except for the throne set up across from Adam. A middle-aged man in regal garments was seated on it. He stared at the ground, gripping his face as if he had a headache.

"Um..." Adam fidgeted uncomfortably, "Am I late?"

The man on the throne looked up. He stood and approached Adam. His expression was like a stone wall.

"No, Adam," he said calmly, "You are not late. It's one thing to arrive to an event late. It's quite another to miss it entirely." It was hard to look Randor in the eye; his eyes held a mixture of disappointment and sadness that made Adam feel like a criminal.

"Father, I..." Adam struggled to find the right words. He wanted to explain how he'd meant to attend, that he'd wanted so badly to make his father proud tonight. But anything he said would sound empty unless he also explained the truth. And in this case, the truth was off-limits.

"I'm so sorry." was all he could say.

Randor sighed. He began pacing back and forth, hoping the action would help him keep his feelings under control.

"I know you're sorry, Adam," he began, "You're always sorry. Every time I remind you of your responsibilities, you tell me how sorry you are and you promise to do better. But then the next day you act exactly the same! Napping in the stables, disappearing for hours at a time doing who-knows-what while your duties go unattended." Randor spun around and stared at his son frustratedly. "You _say_ you're sorry, but you never actually change!"

"I do!" Adam insisted. "I mean, I don't just goof around all day! I help make repairs, I train-"

"Yes, I'm fully aware of how well you train. Like last month, when you were supposed to be learning the royal etiquette. I found you and Orko having a sword fight with the cutlery!"

_Oh, great, that again,_ Adam thought as his face went scarlet. _One butter-knife sword fight and I never hear the end of it._

"Your problem is that you don't take life seriously," Randor continued, "Everything is a big joke to you. You can't treat your responsibilities so lightly, Adam. When you're king, you have to take care of all your duties, you can't leave anything unfinished!"

"I _know_!" Adam cried with exasperation. And he _did_ know. For months now, he'd carried the burden of Eternia's safety, had fulfilled his duties faithfully even when it interfered with his own life. He _knew_ how difficult responsibility was. If only his father understood that!

But Randor didn't understand. To him, Adam's remark sounded insolent, as if his son was telling him to shut up and leave him alone. Randor was trying so hard to keep calm; but this apparent disrespect pushed him over the edge.

"No, Adam," Randor snapped, "You clearly do _not _know. If you did, you'd behave like a prince instead of a spoiled toddler. If you understood, you'd be helpful instead of lazing around like a useless lump!"

Randor shook his head in disgust. "Do you realize," he continued, "that while you were goofing off this evening, a _real_ hero was defending the citizens of Tyra? A hero who's risked his life countless times battling the forces of evil? He understands the importance of his job, and I guarantee he takes it more seriously than you take yours. If you were half as dedicated to your duties as He-Man is—"

Randor petered off as he noticed the look on Adam's face.

Adam was fighting to control his expression, but it wasn't working. Hurt and anger raged inside him like a typhoon, screaming to be released. His mouth opened, but he bit his tongue before the indignant words could come out. Instead he whirled around and ran from the throne room.

"Adam!" Randor called, "Get back here! Adam—"

But Adam ran on as if he couldn't hear. Randor watched his son disappear down the hall. He let out an exhausted sigh.

"Teenagers!" he huffed, and stormed away.


	2. Chapter 2

The light of the rising sun glinted off the spires of the palace. The polished gold shone so brightly that from the courtyard, it looked as if the whole palace were glowing.

But there was only one person in the courtyard at this hour, and he had no time to admire the beautiful scene. He was a tall, imposing figure, made all the more imposing by his green battle armor. Despite his appearance, however, he had a caring heart. And that was why he was striding across the courtyard in search of a certain young man who'd been absent from breakfast that morning.

In the training yard, a ferocious battle was taking place. Adam struck at the training robot mercilessly. The dents in its metal revealed how long this pounding had been going on. But even though the robot was showing signs of wear, Adam was not. He had just lifted his sword for a final blow when the robot suddenly halted. Its eyes went dark and it let out the whine of a machine powering down. Adam gaped it for moment before lowering his sword in disappointment.

"Stupid hunka junk,"" he muttered.

"Actually, I just cut the power."

Adam whirled around. Man-at-Arms, the captain of the guard, was standing behind him at the control console.

"The robot looked like it needed a break." Man-at-Arms quipped. Adam gave the machine a disgusted glare. Then he sighed and sheathed his sword.

"What do you want, Man-at-Arms?" he asked without looking at the soldier.

"What happened last night?"

"The usual. Skeletor's goons came, I drove 'em off—"

"That's not what I meant."

Adam didn't reply. But the sudden tenseness in his body sent a clear enough message. Man-at-Arms chose his words carefully as he continued.

"There were supposedly some harsh words between you and the King last night. You and he both are clearly upset." he paused. "I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

Adam was silent. Now that his distraction was gone, unpleasant thoughts were creeping back into his head. That's why he'd been at the training field all morning; to drive out the memories with action. When he'd been fighting, there hadn't been any room for thought; it was just adrenaline and fury. Now, the feelings he'd bottled up since last night yearned for a release.

"Yeah," Adam finally admitted, "Yeah, Dad and I had a disagreement last night. But of course, it's all my fault. Just like it always is. because I'm a lazy brat who doesn't care about anyone but himself."

"That's not true," Man-at-Arms said calmly. But inside, his concern deepened. The bitterness in Adam's voice was jarring. "Whatever was said—"

"That's exactly what was said!" Adam spun around, words pouring out of his mouth before he could stop them. "He called me a spoiled toddler! A useless, lazy lump! And then—" Adam choked on the words as he said them "—and then he said how much better things would be if He-Man were his son."

Man-at-Arms blinked in disbelief. "King Randor...really said that?"

"He might as well have. 'He-Man's a hero. He-Man's responsible. He-Man's perfect in every way. Why can't you be more like that, Adam?'" Adam kicked viciously at the disabled robot. "He may not have said those exact words, but that's sure what he was thinking."

An armored hand came down gently on Adam's shoulder.

"Do you really think that's what he meant?" Man-at-Arms asked softly.

At the touch, the anger drained from Adam's face, replaced with despairing weariness. It was a weariness that Man-at-Arms had only ever seen on the faces of old soldiers; men whose long years of battle had stripped them of their strength and hope. It was not a look that belonged on a teenage boy.

"It's not fair," Adam whispered, "I try so hard...but I just can't win. When I mess up as Prince Adam, my father pours on the guilt. And if I mess up as He-Man, you and the Sorceress pour on the guilt. No matter what I do, I can't please all of you."

A heavy silence fell over the pair. Although Man-at-Arms's expression remained the same, Adam's words had hit him hard.

"To be guardian of Grayskull, especially so young, is a heavy burden," Man-at-Arms finally said, "Even heavier when it has to remain secret. But it's for a greater purpose. As long as you keep the kingdom safe, it doesn't matter what others think about you."

"Easy for you to say," Adam grumbled, shaking the hand off his shoulder, "When was the last time someone called you a useless lump?"

The boy trudged sulkily out of the training yard. As he entered the courtyard he saw the Masters leaving the palace, going off to take care of their assignments for the day. Two of them spotted him and headed his way. Even from a distance, Adam recognized the figures as Stratos and Mekaneck.

_Maybe we're working together for the day, _Adam thought hopefully. That wouldn't be so bad. Both of the Masters were easy to get along with, and neither was likely to make snarky comments about last night (unlike a certain red-head he could mention).

"Good morning, your Highness," Stratos greeted as he and Mekaneck stopped in front of Adam. Mekaneck was less formal, merely giving a nod and a grin.

"Morning, Stratos; Mekaneck." Adam replied. There was a moment of silence between the parties. The Masters watched Adam expectantly.

"So—what's up?" Adam finally asked.

"What do you mean—Oh, wait," Mekaneck interrupted himself, suddenly realized something. "You weren't at breakfast today, so you didn't hear Man-at-Arms give out assignments."

"We're accompanying you today," Stratos said as if that should explain everything.

"Oo-kaay...Accompanying me where?"

The Masters gave him questioning looks. But before they could explain, someone else interrupted.

"Adam."

Adam stiffened at the sound of his father's voice. He looked around slowly. Randor was approaching, looking just as grim as he had last night.

"Glad to see you on time for a change," the king remarked.

"Father." Adam forced his lips into a smile and tried to be polite, "On time for what?"

"You're coming with me to meet with Chief Carnivus."

"What?" This was news to Adam. "Since when?"

"Since now. Come on, men," the king motioned for the Masters to follow him as he started toward the hovercraft bay. Adam hurried after him.

"You know," he said, trying to keep his voice level, "A little warning would've been nice. Like, if you'd actually _told_ me about this."

"We don't always get what we want in life, Adam." the king replied curtly, "The experience will help you grow. And you need all the help you can get."

"Of course I do," Adam muttered. They boarded the hovercraft. Adam sat by a window, pointedly ignoring his father. Randor intently studied a scroll of parchment, although his scowl suggested that his attention was not wholly focused on it. The hovercraft rose and began its journey. Still no one spoke.

"...So," Mekaneck finally said, disliking the silence, "Why are you meeting with Chief Carnivus again?"

"To inspect the damage from Skeletor's last attack," Randor replied, not looking up from the parchment. That was all he said. The uncomfortable silence returned.

Mekaneck felt as if he'd walked into a parallel universe. King Randor, who was normally so polite, was acting curt and irritated. And Adam— carefree Prince Adam, who could always be counted on for a laugh—was about as cheerful as a Shadowbeast with a toothache. Animosity hung in the air like suffocating fog.

_Well,_ Mekaneck thought sarcastically, _won't this a be a fun trip?_

* * *

Felis Qadi was a secluded village high in the mountains. It was not a human village, however; its inhabitants were Qadians, a race of catlike warriors. With their sharp teeth and feline features, they cut an intimidating figure. But King Randor had learned long ago not to judge by appearances; the Qadians were a friendly people and always welcomed him and his soldiers.

This time, however, their greeting was a somber one. The village was in ruins, and the few buildings that were intact were crammed with the injured. Adam took in the grim scene as he followed his father, who was in deep discussion with the head cat.

"—we've started to rebuild," Chief Carnivus was saying, "but it's slow going. Many of our people are too wounded to assist in construction, and we're rapidly running low on medicine and supplies."

"I can provide both," Randor assured the chief, "And some of our soldiers can be dispatched to help in the reconstruction efforts. Adam—"

"Yeah, I'm writing it down," Adam grumbled, scribbling the information on a roll of parchment. He'd been given the "privilege" of being scribe for the trip, meaning he was forced to listen and record every word his father spoke. It was an important job, but that didn't make it any less tedious. As Randor and Carnivus argued about quantities, Adam looked at the surroundings. All around him, disheartened Qadians trudged along with slumped shoulders and bowed heads. Fear was still evident in their faces.

_Skeletor's caused so much pain. How can anyone be so heartless ?_ Adam wondered. He turned his attention back to the monarchs in front of him. They were currently discussing how much lumber would be needed for the reconstruction. The discussion, however, was interrupted as a thunderous roar echoed through the village.

Chief Carnivus looked up in horror.

"That was a Parek-Narr," he gasped. Randor nodded grimly, his hand moving to his sword hilt.

Terrified shrieks suddenly pierced the air, but were drowned out by a second roar. Then a dark shape charged at them from among the rubble. The royal party scattered. As the beast rushed by, Adam saw the long horn and rough hide of a Parek-Narr. That was bad; those creatures were brutally strong and dangerous. Adam leaped to his feet; the other warriors were already gathering around the beast to attack. Adam was reaching for his sword when the urgent voice of the sorceress cut through his thoughts.

_Adam! Your father is in danger!_

"Yeah, I can see that," he growled.

_No, look up! Among the rocks! _

Adam glanced toward the outcrops of rock that surrounded the village. At first he saw nothing. Then a movement in the shadows caught his eye. A figure was hiding there, among the boulders. The figure shifted, and the end of a blaster appeared in the light. A chill ran down Adam's spine as he realized who the blaster was aimed at.

* * *

"FATHER, LOOK OUT!"

Randor whirled around as he heard the warning. He caught a glimpse of his son's face before Adam tackled him, shoving him backwards. At that moment, a flash came from the outcrop of rocks. As Randor hit the ground, a blue light exploded where he'd been standing a second earlier. The blinding rays engulfed Adam, and a strange crackling noise filled the air. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the light winked out of existence.

"Adam!" Randor scrambled to his feet, half-blinded. All around him, he heard cries of alarm and panicked voices. A hand gripped his shoulder

"Get back!" Stratos' voice cried. Randor felt something massive rush by as the warrior dragged him out of the way. Though his vision was still blurry, he assumed it was the Parek-Narr. The creature was thundering away from the village as fast as its short legs could carry it. There was another running figure in the distance, too. A figure that gleamed metalliclly as it fled. Stratos took to the air in pursuit, leaving Randor on his own.

The king assessed the situation. Terrified Qadians ran in all directions, and Carnivus was barking orders to a group of soldiers. But among the chaos his son was nowhere to be seen.

"Mekaneck!" Randor spotted the soldier crouching on the ground. "Where's Adam?"

Mekaneck looked up at the king. Something about his expression sent a chill down Randor's spine.

"He..." Mekaneck began to say, "Right here...he was right here and then..."

It was then that Randor saw the strange dust on the ground. It was bright red and grainy, like sand. It was scattered on the spot where the blue light had appeared—where Adam had been standing.

"There was a laser blast of some sort," Mekaneck stammered, "It hit Adam and...He's gone. He's just...gone".

There was a whoosh overhead, and Stratos suddenly touched down beside the king.

"Tri-Klops," the warrior gasped, panting, "It was Tri-Klops...Saw him running away on a skyride...Couldn't stop him..." Stratos paused and sucked in a deep breath. "This was Skeletor's doing. Obviously an attempt on your life. We're lucky it failed."

Randor listened to this report in silence. His face was white, his eyes fixed on the strange dust on the ground.

Without warning, the king fell to his knees. The chaos, the noise of the his surroundings seemed to fade away. Only one thought ran through Randor's mind as he stared at the little pile of red sand in front of him.

"No," he gasped, "It can't be..."

A laser blast. Adam had been standing here. A laser blast had hit him...he'd been hit and now he was nowhere to be found. Randor had been standing here just before the blast...surely the laser had been meant for him. Meant to destroy him. But Adam had pushed him out of the way, and now...there was nothing but dust there.

Nothing left of his son but a few flecks of red dust on the ground.

A howl of despair ripped from Randor's lips. The sound struck terror into the warriors beside him, and in all who heard it. It was an inhuman wail; the sound of a creature in absolute and unimaginable agony. As the cry echoed through the village, one word could be distinguished in it.

"ADAM!"


	3. Chapter 3

Adam had no idea what was happening. He remembered pushing his father out of the path of the sniper. Then there'd been a flash of blue light. And now, Felis Qadi had vanished, replaced by a sea of nothingness. Crackling electricity filled the air. But Adam's attention was more focused on the _squeezing_. It felt as if his body was being forced through a narrow straw, squeezed and stretched in unnatural ways. It was unbearable. Just as he felt he couldn't take it any longer, the nothingness ended. The force that was contorting his body vanished, leaving him to collapse where he was.

Adam lay motionless, gasping for breath. He felt like he'd been put through a taffy puller. His whole body ached and tingled as if it'd been filled with pins and needles. But slowly—too slowly, he thought—the feeling began to fade. Adam forced his eyes open and pushed himself up with shaky arms. It was then that he discovered something was wrong—besides himself.

_Wait a second..._Adam gaped at the scene around him, not believing his eyes. _This—this isn't Felis Qadi! This isn't even in the mountains!_

Red, sun-baked earth stretched as far as Adam could see in every direction. The flat plane was broken only by the cliffs and pillars of rock that towered over it haphazardly. The air was suffocatingly hot. Adam was in a desert; a lifeless, barren desert. It was definitely not the mountainous terrain he'd been in a few minutes earlier.

"Wha—how did I get here?!" Adam demanded, scrambling to his feet. "Father? Stratos?! Where are you?! Where am _I_?!"

There was no answer. The desert was silent except for the whistling of the wind. Adam felt panic welling up inside him.

"Okay, just stay calm," Adam muttered to himself. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. "So, I've somehow landed myself in the middle of a strange desert with no people and no help in sight. No big deal. I can figure this out." He stared up at the sky as if the vast expanse of blue would give him answers. The brightness of the sun made his eyes water.

Wait a second—something wasn't right about the sun. Was it bigger than usual? Adam squinted up at the sky, trying to figure it out. But before he could something else caught his attention.

Something appeared on the horizon. It was a hovercraft: a coach of some sort, pulled by horse-like automatons. It was apparently being chased. There was a laser blast, and sparks shot up from the coach. It shuddered and then crashed to the ground. The automatons tried in vain to pull it farther, but it was no use: the vehicle was stuck. Adam raced over to the wreck. The driver was splayed unconscious on the ground. Adam quickly checked him for injuries, although a small part of his mind noticed the man's strange clothing.

The carriage's pursuers were much closer now. They rode automatons like the ones on the coach. Judging from their wild hooting and the blasters they waved in the air, Adam guessed that they weren't friendly. He grabbed the unconscious driver and dragged him to safety behind the coach. As the riders approached, he peered around the vehicle to look at them.

The riders were wearing the same strange garb as the coach driver, although theirs was untidy and ragged. But Adam wasn't really paying attention to their clothes. What struck him first was the riders themselves: they looked like a cross between dogs and humans. They had heads like wolves, with long snouts and yellow eyes. From their pointed ears to their paw-like feet, they were covered in fur—fur that obviously wasn't cleaned very often. As they circled the fallen coach, the dog-men howled triumphantly like hounds that had caught their prey.

One of the dog-men stopped a few feet away and raised his hand in the air. Apparently, it was a signal to the others: they stopped and formed a ring around the carriage. The one that had signaled stepped off his vehicle. He was larger than the rest of the dog-men and wore a navy blue hat with an upturned brim. His cocky swagger made it clear that he was the leader. He looked over the scene smugly. As he saw the fallen driver, a smug smirk formed on his face.

"This is our lucky day, boys!" The leader cried. "The guard's out cold—we won't even have to fight!"

The dog-men's cheering came to an abrupt halt as Adam stood up. The leader eyed him condescendingly.

"Well, lookee here," he jeered. "What's a little runt like you doin' out in the desert?"

Adam fumed at the remark. _Runt? How dare he call me that! If I could only change into He-Man, I'd teach him a lesson..._

That thought gave Adam an idea. Facing down the dog-man, he puffed out his chest and tried to look as menacing as possible. In his experience, criminals tended to be cowards. He couldn't change into He-Man right now; not where everyone could see him. But maybe if he put on a good enough bluff, he could scare them off.

"I don't know who you are," Adam huffed, trying to imitate He-Man's authoritative voice. "But I think you should leave now—before anyone gets hurt."

The dog-men stared at him. For a split second, Adam thought he might have scared them into silence.

Then they burst out laughing.

Adam watched the criminals double over with mirth. His confidence quickly vanished.

"I warn you," Adam tried again, "If you're here to cause trouble—"

"Listen to 'im, he talks like he's serious!" The leader howled, wiping away tears of amusement.

"I think the sun's fried his brain!" Another dog chuckled. That set off another wave of laughter. Adam fought to keep a dignified expression, but he could feel his cheeks reddening. This plan was not working out like he'd hoped.

Eventually, the leader calmed down enough to sneer at Adam.

"Listen up, boy: We worked hard pullin' off this heist. Nothin's gonna stop us from stealing this loot—'specially not a whelp like you." At _whelps,_ the leader gave Adam a shove, making him stumble back. "Now run on home to yer mama before _you _get hurt."

Adam glared up at the sneering dog-man, his blood boiling.

"You don't scare me, _dog breath_," he snarled, "You want to rob this coach, you're gonna have to get through me first!"

"Ooh, I'm shakin' in my boots," the leader said mockingly. He cackled and glanced back at his posse. "Ya hear that, boys? Guess we better—"

The leader was interrupted by Adam's fist. It slammed into his jaw, sending him reeling. Before he could recover, Adam slammed his knee into the dog-man's stomach. The criminal went down with a sound like a deflating balloon. The other dog-men gawked at their fallen leader. Their eyes darted from him to Adam, who was now cradling an aching hand.

_Ow! Since when does it hurt to punch things?!_ Adam thought, wincing. _It never hurts when He-Man punches things_!

He didn't have a chance to dwell on the pain. The rest of the criminals quickly snapped out of their trance. Adam barely had time to think before they charged him. He dove out of the way to avoid being trampled. He jumped to his feet just in time for a fist to flash past his head.

"Oh, boy," Adam muttered, drawing his sword. The dog-men faltered at the sight of the gleaming blade. Adam took advantage of their pause to knock one to the ground. Another dog tried to draw his blaster; Adam smacked it out of his hand with the flat of his blade. The prince spun like a whirlwind, slashing, kicking at everything he could see. He had the upper hand. But part of him knew this couldn't last long.

_I'm hopelessly outnumbered,_ thought Adam's rational mind. _They're bigger and stronger than I am and I've lost the element of surprise. I can't keep this up._

_Yes, I can!_ Adam argued with himself as he dodged a punch. _I've faced worse odds than this and I've still won._

_I've won as _He-Man_. But I'm not He-Man right now—I'm just my regular, wimpy self._

_I'm not wimpy!_

_I can't possibly win this._

_SHUT UP!_

The internal fight disrupted Adam's aim. Adam swung his sword at a short, husky dog-man and missed completely. The dog-man responded with a left hook. Disoriented from the blow, Adam stumbled—right into the waiting arms of his enemies. They pounced in a wave of fur and teeth. The next thing Adam knew, he was face-down on the ground. Clawed hands held his arms behind his back. He struggled, but the dog-men were too strong. He was trapped.

Adam's captors dragged him to his feet. By now, the criminals had recovered from his attack. Most of them were nursing small injuries. Their leader, however, had his attention focused on his hat. It had fallen off in the skirmish. The lead dog-man picked it up gently. As he saw the dirt that clung to its fabric, his eyes narrowed.

"You..." The dog-man glared at Adam, teeth clenched with fury. "You... got... my... hat... dirty!"

Adam would've thought he was kidding if not for the murderous look in his eyes. The dog-man jammed the hat back on his head and stalked toward the boy.

"If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a whelp who don't know what's good for him. Ya shoulda surrendered when ya had the chance, boy. We'd have gone easy on ya. Now—" he cracked his knuckles threateningly, "—Now we gotta teach you a lesson."

Adam's captors chuckled in a way that sent shivers down his spine. He struggled to get away, but his efforts only seemed to amuse the creatures. Their laughter grew louder. The leader made a fist and let it hang ominously under Adam's nose for a second.

"I'm gonna enjoy this," the dog-man growled. Adam tried not to cringe as the hairy fist drew back to strike—

Suddenly, the crack of a firing blaster filled the air. The dog-man yelped as the ground next to him exploded in a shower of sparks.

"What in blazes—?!" He yelped again as a second blast scorched the earth two feet away. Adam twisted around to see who was shooting. The criminals did the same.

A hundred feet away, two figures stood atop a stone plateau. The figure on the right was gray all over, too tall and bulky to be human. The figure on the left was dressed in yellow. A silver ornament of some sort gleamed on his chest.

The dog-men gaped at the figures in shock.

"It's the Marshall!" One of them gasped. With that remark, panic spread through the group like wildfire. As they watched, the figure in yellow leaped onto the cliff face, sliding down the steep incline on his toes. The bulky guy slid down right behind him. Most people who tried that stunt would've experienced a quick and painful fall; but not these guys. The figures reached the desert floor without even wobbling.

The lead dog's expression changed from anger to fear.

"It is the Marshall!" He howled at his posse. "Beat it!"

The gang of dog-men scrambled to get to their vehicles. In the melee, Adam was shoved to the ground.

_Who are those guys?_ Adam wondered. Whoever they were, they definitely weren't on the dog-men's side. By now, the criminals had sped off. They were mere specks in the distance.

"They're gettin' away!" Cried a frustrated voice behind Adam.

Adam turned around. The two figures had reached the carriage. One was a man in a yellow suit. His hat cast a shadow over his face. The other figure had the head and legs of a horse, but he stood upright and had hands like a man. The horse-man held an enormous laser cannon in his hand—he must have been the one shooting.

"They're gettin' away!" the horse-man whinnied again. He turned to the man. "You can still catch 'em! Let's go stomp the varmints!"

The man in yellow gazed after the dog-men for a second. Then he shook his head. "They're too far away, even for me. We can't catch them now. Besides," he added, looking at the coach, "We've got more important things to worry about.

The man walked up to Adam and extended a hand. "You all right, son?"

Adam hesitated, then took the outstretched hand. The man pulled him to his feet. Now that he was closer, Adam saw that the man was fairly young; around thirty. His skin was dark, and his black hair was pulled into a ponytail. A star-shaped badge gleamed on his chest.

"Are you hurt?" The man asked Adam.

"Uh—no. I'm fine. The driver isn't, though."

The man knelt to examine the driver. The horse-man let out a huff of annoyance.

"I never git to have any fun," He grumbled, reluctantly holstering his laser cannon. His deep voice reminded Adam of a irritable horse. He spoke with the same drawling accent that the dog-men had. After another dissatisifed grunt, he turned his annoyed gaze on Adam.

"Whatcha doin' here anyway?" The horse-man demanded gruffly. "This stratostage ain't supposed to be carryin' passengers."

"I wasn't on the stratostage, if that's what it's called," Adam waved his hand at the coach. "I was just here when it crashed. I'm not even sure where _here_ is."

"You're about five miles north of Fort Kerium," The man replied, as if that should answer everything. "We'll take you there now—this driver needs medical attention. Can you carry all three of us, Thirty-Thirty?"

The horse-man rolled his eyes as if the question was ridiculous. "You kiddin'? 'Course I can!"

Adam was confused. The horse-man was going to _carry _them all? How?

As if to answer his question, the horse-man closed his eyes and concentrated. Electricity crackled over his body. There was a flash of light; and in his place there suddenly stood a strong-looking mustang. The horse-man had changed from half-horse to all horse. Adam gaped at the spectacle.

The transformation didn't faze the man, however. He picked up the driver and slung him over the horse's saddle. He glanced at Adam. "Do you need help getting up?"

"Uh...no, I can manage."

"Then git up already!" The horse whinnied, pawing the ground impatiently. "We ain't got all day!"

The man mounted the horse and Adam climbed up behind him. The horse whinnied and took off running. Adam felt uneasy as the horse galloped across the red sand. It wasn't the riding that worried him—he'd ridden horses many times before. But none of the horses at the palace had ever _talked_ to him. This whole situation made no sense. Talking horses, dog men—Adam had never heard of such creatures existing in Eternia. Where on the planet was he? And how had he gotten here?

"So where are we going again?" Adam asked the man, hoping to answer some of these questions.

"Fort Kerium," The man called over his shoulder.

"Is that far from the palace?"

"The what?"

"The royal palace. You know, where King Randor lives?"

"What are you talking about? New Texas doesn't have a king."

"New Texas?" Adam was getting more frustrated by the second. "Where on Eternia is New Texas?"

The man and the horse both gave Adam a strange look.

"I think he's been out in the suns too long," the horse finally muttered. "The heat's gotten to his brain."

Adam flushed with anger. There was nothing wrong with his brain! And why did the horse say _suns_, as if there was more than one? Adam glanced up at the sky again. The sun still looked bigger and brighter than usual. He squinted at it—and suddenly the glowing blob in the sky resolved into a clearer image. Adam's jaw dropped.

"It can't be..." he murmured, looking up at the sun. "That's impossible..."

The man twisted around to look at Adam. "What is it?"

"There are three suns," Adam gasped. And he was right. Three balls of light burned fiercely in the sky. Adam's head swam as he realized what that meant.

"Then...I'm not on Eternia at all!" he gasped. "Then where am I?!"

Adam sat in a dumbfounded trance as this sunk in. When he finally came out of it, the man was looking at him concernedly.

"I think," He said slowly, "you should tell me how you got here. From the beginning."


	4. Chapter 4

Fort Kerium was the biggest town on the planet of New Texas; but it was still rough by most standards. The city was built on land as barren and dry as the desert around it. There were few luxuries, little except the essentials for survival. But that didn't bother its citizens. The New Texans were a tough people, tough enough to handle the harsh conditions without complaint.

Adam, however, wasn't. By the time they'd reached Fort Kerium, he felt like a slow-cooked ham. The yellow-suited man—who introduced himself as Marshall Bravestarr—had listened to Adam's story. When he finished, the Marshall sat thoughtfully for a few moments, a troubled look on his face..

"Your planet's called Eternia?" he finally asked. His frown deepened as Adam nodded. "It's not in the Galactic Federation."

Adam didn't know what the Galactic Federation was; but he gathered that it was important. "So...what's that mean for me?"

"All the known planets are in the Galactic Federation. Getting to them's just a matter of takin' the right freighter. But I've never heard of Eternia before. It must be somewhere out in unexplored space." Bravestarr shook his head. "Finding it'd be like looking for a needle in a haystack. It could take years, decades...maybe longer."

"You mean I'm stuck here?!" Adam's heart sank. He couldn't stay here, stranded on a strange planet. Eternia needed him—needed He-Man! Without He-Man around, Skeletor would ravage the planet within a week!

"I can't stay here!" Adam cried, leaping to his feet. "I have to get home!"

The Marshall held up his hands defensively. "Calm down, pardner—I never said you were stuck You can't get home by spaceship, but...but I have a friend who I think can help you. I'm gonna go talk to him now."

Bravestarr rose from his chair. "It'll be a while before I get back. In the meantime, you stay here. Fuzz, my other deputy, will be keeping an eye on things while I'm gone. Let him know if you need anything."

"Sure. Whatever."

Adam's tone made the Marshall pause. "Hey," he said, setting a hand on Adam's shoulder. His eyes were sympathetic.

"Don't worry," Bravestarr said softly. "I'll get you home, kid. I promise."

Adam gave a half-hearted nod and turned away. The floorboards creaked as the Marshall left the office. But Adam didn't pay much attention to that; he had heavier matters on his mind. How long had it been since his encounter with the sniper? A few hours, probably. It felt like ages. Adam wondered about his friends back home. Did they know what had happened to him? Or did they think he'd merely disappeared without a trace? He had no way of contacting them.

Unless...

_The sorceress!_ Adam thought. She talked to him telepathically all the time. Maybe the telepathy could work both ways! He'd never tried to contact the Sorceress with his mind before, but that didn't mean it couldn't be done. The question was...how exactly to do it?

Adam summoned up an image of the Sorceress. He'd always felt a sort of presence when she entered his mind; as if there was a mental thread that temporarily connected his thoughts with hers. Now he concentrated on that feeling. Closing his eyes, he willed his mind to make a connection.

_Sorceress?_ Adam imagined the thought flying along the mental thread. _Sorceress, it's me, Adam! Can you hear me?_

He waited for a response, but none came. Adam focused harder than he ever had before; so hard that it actually hurt. _SORCERESS! _

In the back of his mind, he felt a tickle. It was weak, and it felt foreign; like a tendril of someone else's thoughts creeping into his mind. Eagerly, Adam reached out to it. He tried to pull the tendril further in, to make it become conscious thought. For a moment, it seemed to work. The tendril crept in, little by little—

And then it stopped. With all his mental strength, Adam struggled to hold onto the presence. But the tendril wavered and faded, like smoke in the wind.

And then it was gone.

Adam waited for the tendril to appear again; for _anything _to appear. But nothing happened. He waited. And waited. And waited.

Nothing. Nothing except a headache.

Adam sighed and opened his eyes. No matter how he looked at it, the situation seemed hopeless. He was stranded on an unknown planet, where nobody knew his world even existed. He had no idea how he'd gotten here, no idea how to get back, and no way to contact his friends on Eternia. His one hope rested on the Marshall's mysterious friend. But even that prospect looked gloomy now.

Adam cradled his throbbing head and looked up at the sky. Somewhere, beyond that vast stretch of blue, was his planet. His friends. His family. Only a few hours ago, Adam had been miserable with his life on Eternia. Part of him has wished he could leave, and never have to deal with his father or his father's disapproval again.

Now...now he'd give anything to be back home.

* * *

Meanwhile on Eternia, in an ancient fortress known as Snake Mountain, a man tapped away at a control console. One mechanical eye scanned the screen before him. Actually, the man didn't have just one mechanical eye; he had three of them, each wired separately into the metal apparatus around his head. That was why they called him Tri-Klops. He frowned at the control console, which displayed nothing but static.

From behind Tri-Klops, a burst of laughter broke out. He gritted his teeth in irritation.

"Would you keep it down?" He snapped. "Some of us are actually working."

"Ah, lighten up, Tri-Klops." a hunch-backed creature covered in orange fur sneered at the inventor. He, along with the rest of Skeletor's warriors, was lounging in front of a holographic screen. The screen showed the royal palace. The figures on the screen were unusually subdued, mournful. Some were openly weeping.

"I can't believe what a fuss they're making," A female warrior scoffed. Her headdress glinted in the light as she tossed her head disgustedly. "As if that useless prince was any great loss! If anything, they ought to thank us for getting rid of him."

"Too bad it wasn't the king we got rid of," The hunch-backed creature growled. He glared at Tri-Klops. "If _somebody_ hadn't missed—"

"I didn't miss!" Tri-Klops spat. "I would have hit Randor if that wretched prince hadn't pushed him out of the way! Besides, it doesn't matter. As long as the beam hit someone, the test can be completed."

"And has it been completed?" a cold voice asked.

Tri-Klops froze as he heard the voice. The other warriors quickly stood to attention as the speaker entered the room. He wore a dark cloak that swept around him like shadow, making his tall figure look all the more forbidding. From under the cloak's hood, a skeletal face grimaced. It had no flesh; only the bare bone of a skull, with empty eye sockets that glowed with a faint red light.

"Skeletor," Tri-Klops greeted the new arrival nervously. Skeletor glowered down at him.

"Well?" the villain demanded. "What have you discovered? Did that contraption of yours work?"

"The readings from the nanobots haven't appeared yet. But only because the transmission needs time to come through!" Tri-Klops added hastily. "We should be getting the results any minute now."

On cue, the control console beeped. Tri-Klops spun around eagerly. The warriors crowded around the device as writing appeared on the screen.

"Heart rate, normal. Brain wave patterns, normal," Tri-Klops muttered as he scanned the read-out. "His vitals all look fine. According to these readings, Prince Adam should be alive and fully functioning."

"What do you mean, 'should be?'" The female warrior demanded. "Is there a chance that these results aren't accurate? Because if there is—"

"There's not. It all checks out." Tri-Klops was glowing with pride. He gazed at the machine that sat next to the console. It appeared to be a large laser blaster. But it was more than that; much more.

"My device worked perfectly," the inventor reported smugly, "It sent Prince Adam across the galaxy in one piece; it should do the same for us."

"Excellent." The light in Skeletor's eyes flared brighter as he looked at the screen. "When can we depart?"

"It takes a lot of energy to generate the wormhole. The test alone nearly drained the charge, and that was just transporting one person. To transport the entire team and have energy for the return trip—"

"I asked **_WHEN_, **not **_why_**!"

Tri-Klops cowered under the villain's glare. "In twelve hours. Approximately. Maybe eleven, if I up the voltage—"

"Do it." Skeletor began pacing back and forth. Despite his attempts to conceal it, his excitement was apparent. "It's all falling into place. I'm so close...so close to conquering Grayskull and destroying my enemies once and for all!"

"What's so important about this planet anyway?" the hunch-backed creature asked. "How's it gonna help us beat the Masters?"

Skeletor didn't answer right away. He was too busy savoring the memory of his discovery. It was months ago that he'd first sensed the power out among the stars. It was faint and far away; but even so, the strength of it made his bones tingle. But where was it coming from? He'd worked tirelessly to find out; and eventually, he'd discovered that the power was emanating from a distant planet. Skeletor knew of only one substance potent enough to be sensed across infinite space. It was corodite; the rarest and most powerful of all elements. And the planet must be full of it. And now, Tri-Klops had developed a way to access it. His invention opened wormholes in the fabric of space-time, through which they could travel instantaneously across the galaxy. It was perfect.

Skeletor looked back at Beastman. If he'd had lips, he would have been grinning maniacally.

"Once we get to that planet," the villain declared "I shall have ultimate power within my grasp. And the best part? He-Man can do nothing to stop me! The Masters know nothing of my plans. Even if they did, they can't follow us once we leave Eternia. For once, we shall be victorious; and there will be no heroes to stand in our way!"

The warriors let out a wild cheer. Even the female warrior smiled. She stepped over to Skeletor's side and gazed up at the villain admiringly.

"Your plan is brilliant," she purred.

"Of course it is, dear Evil-Lyn." Skeletor began to chuckle, but then paused.

"You know," he said thoughtfully, "I'd planned to use Randor to test Tri-Klops' device. But it was probably a stroke of luck that it hit Prince Adam instead."

"What makes you say that?"

"If Randor was on the planet when we arrived, he'd make himself a nuisance. His son, on the other hand, is no obstacle. Even if that coward of a prince tries to stand up to us, he'll be crushed like a bug. And besides," Skeletor added, "I chose Randor because I didn't mind seeing him ripped apart by an unstable wormhole. It would have been a terrible disappointment if he'd arrived safely."


	5. Chapter 5

Night had fallen over Eternia. The planet's twin moons had long since risen and were now high in the sky. But the activity in Man-at-Arms' workshop showed no signs of winding down.

Man-at-Arms stood before an immense screen. He'd been working feverishly in here all day; ever since King Randor had returned from Felis Qadi.

"It's not possible," Man-at-Arms murmured to himself for the millionth time, as if saying it would make it true. "Adam can't be dead..."

The scene from earlier that day still burned in his mind. Mekaneck and Stratos had looked subdued as they left the hovercraft. But it was the king who'd sparked his worries. Randor looked as if every bit of life and happiness had been drained from him. The other Masters had noticed it as well; they'd immediately asked him what was wrong. But the king had pushed past without acknowledging them.

As soon as he'd seen Randor, Man-at-Arms knew something was horribly wrong. But even he hadn't been prepared for the truth: Adam was gone. Vaporized by a laser blast. No trace of him left except dust. It was heavy news, and it hit hard.

Everyone's first thought was denial. It_ couldn't_ be true; the prince couldn't be dead. There must have been a mistake! But gradually, the news had sunk in.

Then the weeping began.

But Man-at-Arms refused to accept the Masters' explanation. He had spent the rest of the day here, in his workshop, trying to figure out precisely what had happened in Felis Qadi. He had to prove to everyone—to himself—that Adam was somehow all right.

The screen in front of him displayed a jumble of numbers and symbols. Man-at-Arms studied them critically. The numbers were scanner readings from the area where Adam has disappeared. They indicated a high level of beta radiation, much too high to be naturally explained. An analysis of the red dust from the scene confirmed that it wasn't human remains; it was dirt. That had encouraged Man-at-Arms somewhat. But he'd been unable to identify the origins, even after comparing it to soil samples from all over Eternia. As far as he could tell, the red dust was foreign to this planet.

"So where did it come from?" Man-at-Arms asked out loud. "And how did it get here? I suppose the blue light might've been a teleportation beam, but even the strongest teleporter only has a range of a few hundred miles. It couldn't possibly send someone off Eternia."

And wherever Adam was, he was definitely not on Eternia. Man-at-Arms had confirmed with the Sorceress. Now, he reached out his mind once again to the keeper of Grayskull.

"Sorceress? Any luck yet?"

There was a long stretch of silence before she replied.

_I am still searching for a sign of Adam,_ she told him telepathically. Her voice sounded distant and strained, as if she were struggling to hold a great burden. _I thought I felt something a while ago—a glimmer from his mind, like the faint twinkling of a far-off star. But it lasted only a moment. I cannot say for certain if it was my imagination._

"Can't you look for this...this glimmer again?"

_That is what I'm trying to do._ The strain in the Sorceress's voice increased. _I...am expanding my consciousness into the cosmos beyond Eternia. But...I cannot stretch my mind...over the whole universe. If Adam is too far away...I may not be able to locate him...even if he does live._

Man-at-Arms sighed, but nodded. "Thank you, Sorceress. I know you'll do your best."

The Sorceress's presence withdrew from his mind, leaving him alone to ponder what he'd heard. All of his inquiries seemed to be dead ends. The evidence he had only created more mysteries; it did nothing to tell him where Adam was or what had become of him. He'd hoped the Sorceress would have more luck, but so far her search had been equally fruitless. Despite his efforts to be optimistic, Man-at-Arms was beginning to lose hope.

Man-at-Arms sat down tiredly and rubbed his eyes. The lateness of the hour was starting to wear on him. His strength was gone, sapped by his churning emotions. But he couldn't rest. Not now. Not until he found an answer. With a grunt, he heaved himself to his feet and left the workshop. He needed a hot drink of something if he was going to be working through the night. The sound of his footsteps echoed through the hall as he walked towards the kitchen.

Suddenly, the footsteps halted. Something down an adjoining hallway had caught his attention.

_What on Eternia...?_ Man-at-Arms thought. He raced down the hall, halting before a closed door. A sliver of light shone from underneath it. Man-at-Arms squinted at the door in the darkness. A moment's study confirmed his first impression.

This was Adam's room.

_Why is the light on in Adam's room?_ Man-at-Arms wondered. It could have simply been a mistake, he supposed—but then he heard a sound from behind the door. Like the creak of bedsprings. Someone was inside. That was all the information Man-at-Arms needed; he quickly tapped the scan panel that opened the door. Light spilled into the dark hallway as the door slid silently into the wall.

Inside the room, someone sat on Adam's bed; and it wasn't Adam. His back was to the door, but Man-at-Arms still recognized the king immediately. Randor was completely unaware of Man-at-Arms' presence. His focus seemed to be on something in his hands. As Man-at-Arms watched, the king let out a sigh.

"It's all my fault," Randor murmured, in a voice so low it could scarcely be heard.

Man-at-Arms felt torn. On the one hand, he hated to intrude. The king was his superior, and wouldn't want him to witness such a personal matter. The most respectful thing to do would be to leave and pretend he'd never seen this. On the other hand...Man-at-Arms thought back to his days in the army, when he and Randor had fought together. Their rule had been teamwork; you never, ever faced the enemy alone. Surely that rule still applied now? Man-at-Arms's hand hovered uncertainly over the scan panel. He should just close the door now. As a subordinate, it was his duty to leave the king alone—

_No, _Man-at-Arms interrupted his own thoughts. _Randor may be my superior...but he's also my friend. He always has been. Isn't that more important than official duties?_

With that, Man-at-Arms stepped into the room. "Your Majesty?"

Randor jumped and spun around. Man-at-Arms was struck by how much he'd deteriorated in the past hours. Dark circles rimmed the king's eyes, standing out against his otherwise pallid face. Hunched shoulders replaced his normally-perfect posture. But the biggest change was in his expression. Fatigue and suffering were evident in his face; the kind of suffering that made people shudder to imagine.

"Duncan," Randor muttered, using Man-at-Arms' real name. "What are you doing here?"

"I noticed the light and felt I should investigate." Man-at-Arms took a deep breath before getting to his real point. "Your Majesty—what happened to Adam today...you couldn't have prevented it."

Surprise crossed Randor's face; but the hopeless expression quickly returned. He made no reply except to look at the object in his hands again. Man-at-Arms could see now that he held a framed picture. It was a family portrait: Randor, Queen Marlena, and Adam. Randor stared at it with a mix of sadness and longing.

"It shouldn't have been Adam." Randor finally whispered. "That sniper was aiming for me, Duncan. I should be the one dead. If he hadn't taken the blast—"

"It's not your fault, Your Majesty. You'd have done the same for him."

"BUT HE DIDN'T DESERVE IT!"

Randor's outburst was startling. He'd leapt to his feet, dropping the portrait in the process. The tinkling of shattered glass was followed by a chilling silence. Randor's clenched fists trembled as he fought to reign in his feelings.

"Do you remember last night? How he missed the banquet?" Randor asked hoarsely. "I was so angry when he came home...I lost my temper. I told him he was useless. Lazy. Not good enough..."

Randor sighed and collapsed wearily back onto the bed. "I've never seen Adam look so hurt. As soon as I said it, I wanted to take it back, but...but I didn't. I _wanted _him to suffer." Randor shook his head in self-disgust. "Why, Duncan? Why did I do it?"

"Everyone makes mistakes, your Majesty." Man-at-Arms muttered. "you shouldn't—"

"But it wasn't just one mistake! I've been thinking about it, and I can't remember a single conversation with Adam where I wasn't lecturing or chastising him. Not one! Every time I stopped to talk to him, it was tell him what was wrong with him."

Randor cradled his face in his hands as painful memories surged forward. "Adam's always been a good person. Kind. Friendly. He never abused his position for his own gain. He may not be perfect, but he has—he _had _a good heart. And I never gave him credit for any of that, Duncan. I don't even remember when I last told him that I loved him."

Man-at-Arms was silent. Adam's bitter remarks from that morning were ringing through his mind. _"No matter what I do, I can't please all of you..."_ Was he guilty of the same crime as Randor? In the past months, hardly a week had gone by that Adam hadn't foiled one of Skeletor's schemes. His efforts and endurance deserved the highest praise one could give. But Man-at-Arms had gotten so used to He-Man's exploits that he rarely acknowledged them anymore. Had Adam received _any_ thanks for his sacrifices? Any thanks beyond a shallow "Good job!" and a pat on the head? The thought made Man-at-Arms hang his head in shame.

"Adam had more than a good heart," he said, as much to himself as to Randor. "He was a fine young man—probably the best I've ever known. I don't think any of us really gave him the appreciation he deserved."

Randor shook his head. "It's not a matter of deserving, Duncan. I'm his _father_. I'm the one who's supposed to be there for him; to listen to him; to make him feel accepted. But somewhere along the line, I got more concerned with being a king than a father. I tried to mold him into a model prince and in the process I forgot that he was a _person_, with hopes and dreams and struggles."

Man-at-Arms put a hand on Randor's shoulder, just as he'd done to Adam that morning. With a sigh, Randor looked up. Man-at-Arms could see tears glistening in his eyes.

"I've failed my only son, Duncan. And now...now I'll never get a chance to make it right."


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry it took so long for the update, everyone. On the plus side, it's an extra-long chapter! Hope you enjoy, please review if you can!**

* * *

The light of the flames danced over Bravestarr's face, casting shadows on the cavern walls around him.

"Well?" he asked, squinting against the brightness. "What do you think?"

The question was directed at the elderly man sitting across from him. Actually, "elderly" was an understatement. Shaman was _ancient_. Exactly how ancient was anyone's guess, but certainly he'd lived longer than a normal human. His appearance testified to his age: the straggly white hair, the hunched posture, the trembling arthritic hands. But Bravestarr knew that despite his looks, Shaman was anything but weak. His eyes glittered brightly in his wrinkled visage, burning with inner strength.

These eyes were currently focused on an image wavering in the flames. It showed a teenage boy sitting outside Bravestarr's office. The blond hair falling across the boy's face did little to hide his miserable expression.

"It is indeed a strange situation," Shaman murmured, still frowning at the image of Adam. "If what you tell me is true, I fear we may have greater problems than just sending the boy home."

Bravestarr nodded; he'd been thinking the same thing. "Whoever tried to shoot Adam's father must've been an enemy. But if they were trying to get rid of him, why not just use a regular laser blaster? Why bother teleporting him off the planet?" Bravestarr shook his head. "I think whoever's behind this is trying to get to New Texas. The question is, why?"

"That is not the only question. The more I study this puzzle, the more pieces I uncover. The boy, for instance. There is more to him than meets the eye."

"What do you mean?"

"I sense power within him; a strange power which fills him as the force of the nature spirits fills you. I do not understand it fully. But this much I can tell: it is meant for good, and its strength rivals that of my own."

Bravestarr's eyes widened. Shaman's magic was the strongest thing he knew of. To think that this young boy had something to equal it was astonishing.

"What should I do?" the Marshall asked, regarding Adam's image with new respect.

"Watch over the boy. I will search for a way to return him to his planet. And in the meantime," Shaman fixed Bravestarr with a stern look. "Be on your guard, my son. I suspect we shall face great challenges before this problem is resolved."

Bravestarr left Starr Peak with a heavy mind. Outside, the suns were setting. Soft blue light covered the desert as he and Thirty-thirty began the long ride home.

"So wait a second," Thirty-Thirty huffed when Bravestarr told him Shaman's words. "You're tellin' me that kid's got nature powers like you?"

"I don't think so—from the way Shaman talked about, it sounds like it's different from the magic he's used to. But he has _some_ kind of power, and it must be pretty impressive if it rivals Shaman's."

The horse-man snorted to show how credible he found this story. "I'll believe it when I see it. Adam's a nice kid, but he don't look any more dangerous'n Fuzz."

Bravestarr responded with a noncommittal grunt. He sank into a thoughtful silence as they galloped across the sand.

By the time they reached Fort Kerium, the night had completely taken over. The town's buildings were black silhouettes against the star-studded sky. Usually, Bravestarr would have appreciated the sight, but tonight his mind was occupied with the day's strange events. It wasn't until a flicker of movement caught his eye that he looked up.

"Hang on a sec, Big Pard."

"What is it?"

"I thought I saw something—over there in the shadows."

Thirty-Thirty halted and peered in the direction indicated. "I don't seen nothin'. Prob'ly just your eyes playin' tricks on ya." The horse-man had just started walking again when a loud crash rang out behind them. Both of the peacekeepers whirled around.

"That wasn't my ears playing tricks," Bravestarr snapped. He jumped out of the saddle and rushed to where the noise had come from. Thirty-Thirty reverted to his humanoid form and followed. The source of the commotion was clear: a stack of scrap metal behind one of the buildings had fallen and was now scattered on the ground. But what interested Bravestarr more were the footprints underneath the mess. Footprints of someone fleeing from town—someone with dog-like feet.

"A dingo," Bravestarr murmured. "Looks like it was running and knocked over the scrap metal by accident."

"Just one dingo?" Thirty-Thirty looked puzzled. "Those varmints never pull a heist unless they're in a group. What would a lone dingo be doin' here?"

Bravestarr traced the trail of footprints. It looked like the dingo hadn't gotten far into town before he'd turned back—probably gotten spooked by the return of the two lawmen. Bravestarr closed his eyes and summoned the power of the nature spirits within him. "_Eyes of the hawk_!" he intoned.

As the nature spirit took over his sight, Bravestarr's field of vision rose until he had an aerial view of the town. A small black dot was speeding away into the wilderness beyond Fort Kerium. Bravestarr's vision zoomed in on it until he could see it clearly: a turbomule, ridden by a scruffy dingo.

"Whatever he was doing, he's gone now," Bravestarr said, releasing the power of the hawk. His vision became normal again. "It doesn't look as if he did any damage here. We should put the town in defense mode for the night, though, in case they're planning an attack."

Thirty-Thirty wasn't happy about missing out on a good scrimmage, but he agreed. As they went to reset the town's defenses, he brought up a good question.

"Why would the dingoes attack, anyway? There ain't much kerium in town right now, and nothin' else worth riskin' their hides for. It don't make sense for 'em to try and rob us tonight."

"You're right, Big Pard. That's what worries me." Bravestarr's brow furrowed as he pondered the problem. "If they're not after kerium…then what do they want?"

* * *

Adam was awakened by the sun—no, _suns_—shining in his eyes. He blinked sleepily against the glare and rolled over. And fell painfully onto the floor.

That woke him up faster than the light had. Adam quickly sat up, his mind scrambling to get a grip on the situation. He was in what appeared to be a medical clinic. Beeping machines stood at one end of the room, and long rows of vacant cots stretched before it. Adam had been sleeping in one himself before he'd fallen out.

The memories of the previous day clicked into place. That's right, this was Doc Clayton's clinic—Fort Kerium's infirmary. Adam had been introduced to the doctor yesterday by the Marshall's deputy. Deputy Fuzz—or just "Fuzz," as he'd told Adam to call him—was a funny little creature who resembled a gopher. He was barely three feet tall, although the massive hat he wore added another foot to that height. He didn't speak English very well, but he had a big heart and quirky character that reminded Adam of Orko. It was Fuzz who'd arranged for Adam to sleep at the clinic last night.

"Fuzz would let Adam stay at Fuzz's place," the little deputy had said apologetically. "But him not think you'd fit. Clinic be more comfy."

_Fuzz was probably right about that_, Adam thought as he picked himself off the ground. The cot wasn't nearly as nice as the feather bed he was used to, but it was certainly better than the floor—or a bed made for someone half his size. Adam threw the thin blanket back onto the cot and pulled his boots on. The sunlight blinded him as he left the clinic. Even early in the morning, Fort Kerium was bustling with activity. Adam walked down the street to the Marshall's office. He hoped the Marshall had been able to get some answers from the friend he saw yesterday.

Bravestarr was on the porch reclined in a chair. His hat was tilted down over his eyes as if he were napping. Thirty-Thirty in his humanoid form sat at the other end of the porch, lovingly polishing his laser cannon.

"Mornin', kid." The horse grunted as Adam approached, barely glancing up from his work. The Marshall tipped his hat back to look at Adam.

"Mornin', Adam," he said cordially. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah, pretty well. So—what did your friend say? Can he help me?"

Bravestarr's face became more serious. Adam sensed bad news coming.

"My friend isn't sure how to send you home. But," he added quickly as Adam's face fell. "If you ask me, it's only a matter of time. I've seen Shaman open portals to the past itself—I'm sure he'll find a way to get you back to your planet."

Adam nodded, but his disappointment was obvious. He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up in the first place. But the last thing he wanted was pity, so he quickly hitched a neutral expression onto his face and changed the subject.

"As long as I'm going to be here awhile, I might as well make myself useful. Is there anything I can help with?"

Bravestarr noticed the sudden change in topic, but decided to let it drop. "I'm sure we could find something for you to do. There's plenty of work around Fort Kerium."

"A supply shipment's comin' in at Handlebar's saloon," Thirty-Thirty suddenly broke in. "You could help me unload it—if ya don't mind workin' up a sweat."

"Sure. Whatever."

Thirty-Thirty gave the cannon's barrel a last rub with the polishing cloth. He held the weapon up and looked it over one last time. Then, with a satisfied snort, he stuck it into the holster on his back and stood up.

"Right then," the horse-man grunted. "Let's go."

The heavy labor of the next little while helped take Adam's mind off his problems. After a few hours of carting supply crates back and forth, he was too tired to mope. Thirty-Thirty hadn't been kidding when he'd mentioned working up a sweat.

At last, the final crate was dropped in its place in the saloon's back room. Adam collapsed next to it, panting. He pretended not to notice the amused look Thirty-Thirty was giving him. The horse-man, or course, wasn't even winded by the work. He could carry two supply crates at a time without apparent effort; it took all of Adam's strength to lift just one. To make things worse, they were working in the ever-rising morning temperature. Adam now felt like a slow-cooked ham that had run a marathon.

"You gonna be all right, kid?" Thirty-Thirty asked half-jokingly.

"How can you stand having a fur coat in this heat?"

Thirty-Thirty chuckled as he hauled Adam up. "Ya get used to it after a while. Actually, you're doin' better than mosta the visitors that come here. 'Least _you_ ain't fainted yet."

"Not yet," Adam murmured darkly. He hoped the statement would remain true. Just then, the saloon's owner came out. The owner, Handlebar, was a green-skinned alien who rivaled Thirty-Thirty for muscular bulk. His intimidating appearance was softened slightly by the bright-red moustache above his lip. The moustache twitched as he surveyed their work.

"Done already? I'm impressed," Handlebar complimented. He spoke with a husky, clipped accent that was much different from the New Texans' twangy one. "Thanks for your help, fellas. I appreciate it."

The stratostage driver who'd brought the supplies tapped his fingers to get Handlebar's attention. "_I'd_ appreciate it if someone would sign off on this shipment so I can go. You know how long I've been waitin' here?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." Handlebar scribbled a signature on an electronic clipboard and handed it back to the driver along with a leather pouch. The driver opened the pouch and examined it contents. He gave a satisfied nod.

"Four ounces a' kerium, just like we agreed." The driver tucked the pouch into his pocket and gave his companions a farewell salute. "Nice doin' business with ya, Handlebar."

_Kerium?_ Adam thought. _As in the town's name…but what's it have to do with money_? He turned to Thirty-Thirty. "Is kerium a precious metal or something?"

The horse-man let out a surprised whinny. "You've never heard of kerium? It's the most valuable mineral in the galaxy! That's the reason this town exists in the first place. Most folks only come to New Texas 'cause they're hopin' ta strike it rich minin' kerium."

"What makes it so valuable?"

"It's an energy source. They use kerium to make rocket fuel, electricity—it does just about everythin'. Crazy powerful stuff." Thirty-Thirty reached for a pouch on his belt and dug out a small crimson rock. He held it out to Adam. "You don't have any of this on your planet?"

"No, we—" Adam tapered off suddenly. He leaned closer and squinted at the rock. Its crystalline structure sparkled as light glinted off its blood-red surface. The mineral looked strangely familiar to Adam, and he felt a sense of foreboding as he examined it. Where had he seen this before?

Then suddenly, it clicked. Adam's eyes widened as he matched the crimson rock to a memory. The kerium looked exactly like—

"Corodite," Adam breathed.

Thirty-Thirty raised an eyebrow at him. "'Scuse me?"

"We do have this on my planet—except we call it corodite! It's really rare, though. I've only ever seen one chunk of it before." Adam's face went pale as he recalled the incident. That small amount of corodite had created a monster, which not only tried to eat Man-at-Arms but went on a rampage that nearly destroyed Castle Grayskull. It had nearly destroyed He-Man, too. Thankfully, that corodite sample seemed to be the only one in existence on Eternia. Adam shuddered to think what Skeletor might've done if he'd found more of the mineral—

Wait a second.

Adam eyed the red crystal with new dread. "Thirty–Thirty, you said most of the people here are miners. So kerium must be pretty common on this planet?"

"You bet it is! There's veins a' the stuff runnin' all through New Texas."

Adam's head whirled. In his mind, the events of the last twenty-four hours suddenly made sense. He'd suspected all along that Skeletor had been behind the sniper attack; but until now he'd thought his arrival on New Texas was a coincidence. But what if it wasn't? What if somehow, Skeletor had found out about this planet and its vast supply of corodite? The lure of such power would be too much for the villain to resist; he'd do anything to get to New Texas and seize the mineral. And it looked as if he had found a way. If that strange laser blaster had sent Adam here, it could send Skeletor, too. What would that mean for Eternia—for both planets?

Just then, as if the town was in agreement with Adam's thoughts, a shrill alarm sounded. Adam jumped, startled, but the effect on the rest of the New Texans was far greater. Their faces paled with fear. Thirty-Thirty tensed, suddenly alert.

"What is that?" Adam asked with an unpleasant suspicion that he knew the answer. A sinking feeling formed in his gut as Thirty-Thirty confirmed it.

"That alarm means they're puttin' up the town's defenses. There must be trouble comin'— big trouble." Grim-faced, the horse took off for the Marshall's office. Adam followed close behind. All around them, the townspeople scurried for shelter.

Marshall Bravestarr was no longer reclined on the porch of the office; he was inside, along with Fuzz and a red-haired woman Adam hadn't met before. They stood around a bulky machine that was emitting clicking sounds.

"What's goin' on?" Thirty-Thirty demanded. Bravestarr signaled for him to be quiet for a moment. He listened to the clicks intently, brow furrowed with concern.

"There's been a disturbance near Scorpion Flats," The Marshall said finally. "A posse of unfriendly-looking folk just rode through a mining camp."

"Dingoes?"

"No," The woman shook her head, "Not Tex Hex's gang, either. It sounds like there's a magician with them; the message said one of them was blasting things out of the way with a glowing staff."

"Did the staff have a ram's skull on it?" Adam interjected. Suddenly, all eyes were on him.

"Do you know something about this?" Bravestarr asked. "Because I've never heard of an outlaw like this on New Texas."

"He's not from New Texas—at least, if it's the person I'm thinking of. If I'm right, the guy with the staff is named Skeletor, and those other people are his cronies." Adam quickly explained about corodite and why Skeletor would want it. He worried that the Marshall wouldn't believe him, but Bravestarr listened with complete respect.

"So this Skeletor fellow came here for kerium?" Bravestarr asked when Adam had finished.

"I think so. It makes sense. Although I'm not sure the magician you're talking about is him."

"But it is likely," Bravestarr rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "If what you said is true, we've got to stop him before he gets any kerium. One super-villain on this planet is bad enough; we don't need another one."

"Then what're we waitin'for?" Thirty-Thirty demanded. The horse-man bolted from the building and by the time he'd reached the street, had turned into his quadruped form.

"Fuzz, you stay here and activate the town's defenses!" Bravestarr instructed, leaping into the saddle. The red-headed woman mounted a turbomule hovering nearby.

"We should try to head them off before they get to Sawtooth Canyon," She suggested, powering up the horse-like automaton. "That way we can—what are you doing?"

Adam paused, one foot in the stirrup of Thirty-Thirty's saddle. He realized the woman was talking to him.

"I'm coming with you," he said, thinking that should be obvious.

The woman's eyes widened in horror. "What? No, absolutely not! It's too dangerous!"

"She's right, boy," Thirty-Thirty growled. "Tanglin' with outlaws is no job for a kid. Leave this to the professionals."

"But—"

"No buts," The woman said firmly. "If Skeletor is as dangerous as you say, we can't risk getting civilians involved—especially not someone as young as you. You stay here out of harm's way."

Adam stammered, indignation rendering him speechless. Instinctively, he looked to Bravestarr for support. The Marshall didn't say anything, but he studied Adam for a long moment. Something in his expression made Adam think he was being evaluated. The woman apparently thought the same thing.

"You're not actually thinking of letting him come, are you?" She demanded, sounding alarmed. "Even Thirty-Thirty wouldn't do something so irresponsible!"

"Well," Bravestarr said slowly, "He does know more about Skeletor than we do—"

"No! I refuse to allow it!" The woman shook her head stubbornly. "He's just a kid. I can't—won't— put him in such danger."

Gently, the woman pulled Adam away from Thirty-Thirty.

"Sorry, Adam," she whispered. "It's for your own good."

Thirty-Thirty reared up, snorting excitedly.

"It's stompin' time!" He cried, and took off galloping before Bravestarr could react. The red-haired woman remounted her turbomule and sped after him. Soon, all that could be seen of them was a dust cloud in the distance. Adam watched it recede. He felt a strange emptiness inside him; an emptiness that, unfortunately, he had felt many times before. Rejection. This was what rejection felt like.

Adam felt a touch on his hand and glanced down to see Fuzz next to him. The deputy looked sympathetic.

"Don't be sad," Fuzz insisted. "JB not mean anything; she just wants youse to be safe."

"Mmm," Adam grunted noncommittally. Fuzz sensed that the boy wanted to be alone. He stepped away.

"Fuzz put up town defense soon. When defenses go up, Adam need come inside office, okay?"

"Okay," Adam murmured. His feet were already carrying him away from the deputy. Fuzz stared after him for a moment, concern showing in his eyes. But he had a job to do, and watching Adam was not part of it. Reluctantly, the deputy turned away and scuttled back into the Marshall's office.

Adam had a vague idea of where he was going, mainly out of habit. Whenever danger reared its ugly head, that was his cue to slip away and change into He-Man. Of course he'd do the same now; New Texas might not be his home planet, but he still needed to help them. And yet, when he'd reached a secluded area away from prying eyes, he found himself reluctant to draw his sword. His arms hung limply at his sides, refusing to go near the weapon.

_What are you doing, Adam?_ He chided himself. _You have work to do! Skeletor could wreak all kinds of havoc if He-Man doesn't stop him. You have to fight; it's your duty!_

_Duty…_ The word left behind a bitter taste. Yes; as always, it was his duty to drop everything and run off to tangle with a super-villain who didn't know when to quit. It was his duty to abandon his other obligations, and then come back and suffer contempt and scorn for doing so. It was his duty to put up with Teela's mockery, with his father' disapproval, with a reputation as a selfish coward; all for the sake of heroics that he would never receive any credit for.

_Is that the only reason I do this?_ Adam asked. _Because of duty? Because Man-at-Arms and the Sorceress will send me on a guilt trip if I don't?_ That wasn't why he'd taken up the role of He-Man in the first place… but more and more, it seemed to be his reason for continuing in that role. Yes, he wanted to help people, but did it have to come at so high a cost? Was it really necessary to alienate his friends, his family, for the sake of the greater good? Or…or was he just being selfish?

With that thought came a wave of mental fatigue so strong it drained him. Adam sank to the ground, no longer willing to make the effort of standing. Half-heartedly, he pulled his sword from its sheath, but instead of holding it aloft he set it across his lap. His reflection showed clearly in the polished blade: a young, pale boy whose face still had remnants of baby fat. It was a soft face; a _weak_ face. It was not the face of a great hero.

_My dad was right,_ Adam thought sadly as he studied the reflection. _Eternia doesn't need me, it needs He-Man. The only things I've ever done worth mentioning had the power of Grayskull behind them. By myself, I'm nothing. I'm…I'm useless. _

Adam let out a despairing sigh. Reluctantly, he lifted the sword from his lap. As the blade tilted, though, something in the reflection caught his eye. It took Adam a moment to register the image. Then his instincts kicked in, and he dove sideways. As he lunged, something flashed by his head, barely missing him. Adam leapt to his feet, all fatigue forgotten.

His attacker whirled to face him, cursing. It was a man dressed in dark blue and indigo, with a brown moustache. Adam hadn't even realized there was anyone behind him; not until he'd seen the man's reflection in his sword. Something about him was vaguely familiar, but Adam didn't have time to figure out what. This guy had just tried to club him in the head with a gun; Adam doubted he was friendly.

"Stay back! Adam growled, brandishing his sword. The man made no response except to smirk. Adam couldn't tell what he thought was so funny, but that smirk gave him a bad feeling. He slowly backed away, watching the man for any suspicious moves. Unfortunately, he should have been watching somewhere else.

Without warning, Adam was tackled from behind. The sudden weight made his knees buckle. He hit the ground, dropping his sword. The mustached man stepped forward and kicked it out of his reach.

"What are you doing? Get off me! Ge—" A hairy hand clamped over Adam's mouth, cutting him off. The mustached man sneered down at him as he struggled helplessly.

"Still don't know when to quit, do ya?" The man said quietly. Adam froze. He'd heard that voice before. But it was impossible...

The man noticed Adam's disbelief, and his grin stretched wider. He adjusted his hat—a navy-blue hat with an upturned brim—and knelt so that he was eye level with Adam.

"No, it ain't yer eyes playin' tricks on ya, runt," The man hissed. "We ain't been properly introduced, have we? Two-Faced Dingo Dan, at yer service. And my posse and I got a score ta settle with you."


End file.
